Page 5 of A Man for Amanda
“Dead meat.”
“I beg your pardon?” She stepped up to the door. The moment she spotted Sloan her ingrained vanity took over. In the blink of an eye she whipped her apron off. “Hello.” Her smile was warm and feminine as she extended a hand. “I’m Cordelia McPike.”
“A pleasure, ma’am.” Sloan brought her fingertips to his mouth. “As I was just telling your sister here—”
“Oh, my.” Coco let out a trill of delighted laughter. “Amanda’s not my sister. She’s my niece. The third daughter of my late brother—my much older brother.”
“My mistake.”
“Aunt Coco, this jerk knocked me down outside of the boutique, then followed me home. He just wants to wheedle his way into the house because of the necklace.”
“Now, Mandy, you mustn’t be so harsh.”
“That’s partially true, Mrs. McPike.” Sloan gave Amanda a slow nod. “Your niece and I did have a run-in. Guess I didn’t get out of her way in time. And I am trying to get into the house.”
“I see.” Torn between hope and doubt, Coco sighed. “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think it would be possible to let you in. You see we have so much to do with the wedding—”
Sloan’s eyes whipped back to Amanda. “You getting married?”
“My sister,” she said tightly. “Not that it’s any of your business. Now if you’ll excuse us?”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude, so I’ll just be on my way. If you’ll tell Trent that O’Riley was by, I’d appreciate it.”
“O’Riley?” Coco repeated, then fluttered her hands. “Goodness, are you Mr. O’Riley? Please come in. Oh, I do apologize.”
“Aunt Coco—”
“This is Mr. O’Riley, Amanda.”
“I realize that. Why the devil have you let him in the house?”
“TheMr. O’Riley,” Coco continued. “The one Trenton called about this morning. Don’t you remember—of course you don’t remember, because I didn’t tell you.” She patted her hands to her cheeks. “I’m afraid I’m just so flustered after keeping you standing outside that way.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” he said to Coco. “It’s an honest mistake.”
“Aunt Coco.” Amanda stood with her hand on the doorknob, ready to pitch the intruder out bodily if necessary. “Who is this O’Riley and why did Trent tell you to expect him?”
“Mr. O’Riley’s the architect,” Coco said, beaming.
Eyes narrowing, Amanda studied him from the tip of his boots to his wavy, disordered hair. “This is an architect?”
“Our architect. Mr. O’Riley will be in charge of the renovations for the retreat, and our living quarters. We’ll all be working with Mr. O’Riley—”
“Sloan,” he said.
“Sloan.” Coco fluttered her lashes. “For quite some time.”
“Terrific.” Amanda let the door slam.
Sloan hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets and gave her a slow smile. “My thoughts exactly.”
Chapter Two
“Where are our manners?” Coco said. “Here we are keeping you standing in the hall. Please, come in and sit down. What can I offer you? Coffee, tea?”
“Beer in a long-necked bottle,” Amanda muttered.
Sloan merely smiled at her. “There you go.”
